The Great Prophecy
by shiiki
Summary: When ten-year-old Annabeth watches her best friend get a quest, she sneaks into the attic to see the Oracle, hoping for a prophecy that will start her on a quest of her own. What she gets, however, is much more than she bargained for.


**A/N** : This was a little something I started writing shortly after I read the series for the first time. It sat on my hard drive unfinished for many months, and I finally picked it up again. This fic was many things—trying to understand Annabeth's (and Luke's) past better, exploring some backstory Annabeth spoke of in TLO, a bit of canon reconciliation for how Annabeth claimed not to know all of the prophecy in SoM but seemed well-versed by TLO. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!

I should also point out: I am not American, so if there's any dialogue or turns of phrase that I've mangled while trying to avoid the fic sounding too overtly British, I apologise, and would appreciate if you point them out! (I will be sticking with British spelling, though.)

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The Great Prophecy

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The mood in the mess hall was celebratory. The Hermes table, already the most crowded, was even more boisterous than usual as everyone else kept stopping by to toast Luke before he headed off on his quest the next day. His two chosen companions, Tyler and Abby, were getting a lot of thumps on their backs as well.

Annabeth was less than thrilled.

She felt a bit like a bad friend, not being totally supportive of Luke, but she couldn't help the wave of jealousy pulsing through her. How could she, when he'd gotten something she'd coveted for years?

Ever since she'd come to Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth had been determined to prove she was clever and brave, worthy of her mother Athena's legacy and her friend Thalia's sacrifice. Three years ago, Thalia had died and become a tree while fighting monsters in order to save Annabeth's life. Annabeth felt like she had to do something to show she'd been worth protecting.

For years, she'd watched campers get chosen to complete quests for the gods and return as heroes. Quest heroes were the best the camp had to offer: demigods who had proven themselves in the world.

And now Luke was getting a chance. This morning, the god Hermes had come to Chiron, the camp's activity director, with the quest, and Chiron had bestowed it on Luke. It was an incredible task, too: stealing a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides. Annabeth didn't know _why_ Hermes might want the apple, but the very act was one that required strength _and_ smarts. Luke and his companions would first have to locate the garden, work out how to get by the guardians, and then fight the dragon that guarded the apple tree. Only Heracles had ever done it before. If Luke succeeded, he would be lauded a hero worthy of the legendary demigod himself.

Annabeth felt sure that if she had the chance to go along, she'd be able to help. She was excellent at strategy. After all, hadn't it been her strategy that had won her cabin the laurels for two consecutive capture the flag games this summer? She'd studied Ancient Greek history extensively and committed dozens of stories to memory. She knew all about mythological beasts and legendary journeys. She'd trained really hard at all the camp activities, even those she didn't think very useful. (Like the lava climbing wall—what good was rock-climbing against a monster? But Chiron promised it would help her, and so Annabeth made sure she had one of the best scaling times among the campers.) She'd been a camper for three years, the same as Luke—as long as some of the cabin counsellors even.

Luke himself, whom everyone said was the best sword-fighter the camp had seen in three hundred years, said that she was an excellent fighter. And yet, Luke had picked Tyler and Abby over her.

It wasn't _fair_.

Dinner ended and the campers trooped back to the cabins, still in high spirits. Chiron had suggested that Luke, Tyler, and Abby have an early night so that they could set off bright and early. Annabeth saw Tyler—a son of Ares—disappear into cabin four while Luke and Abby entered cabin eleven with the rest of the Hermes group.

She sat on the steps of cabin six and pouted, feeling too put out to go to bed.

Before long, a shadow fell over her. Luke's lanky form stood in front of her, silhouetted in the moonlight. He was really tall, and he used to be wiry like her, but in the last year, he'd filled out a lot and put on some muscle.

'Hey,' he said.

Annabeth kept pouting.

'You're not still pissed, are you, Annabeth?'

He sighed when she still didn't reply, and sat down next to her.

'This quest is going to be dangerous, Annabeth,' Luke said.

'I know that! But I can fight! Don't you think I'm good enough?'

'It's not that. I just think that … well, you mean a lot to me, okay, Annabeth? It was you, me, and Thalia, and with Thalia …' He glanced up to the hill where the pine tree that had once been their friend stood. 'Anyway, I don't want anything to happen to you. I didn't like what the prophecy I got said.'

'What prophecy? What did it say?'

'The prophecy from the Oracle, of course. You can't have a quest without a prophecy. Even after Chiron told me what Hermes wanted, I had to go to the attic—that's where the Oracle lives—and get my prophecy.'

'What was she like? What did she say?'

Luke looked a bit uncomfortable. 'She's—well, she's not exactly alive. She's like a mummy or something … like, not the wrapped in bandages kind, but all withered and … oh, I'm not sure how to explain it. But she's really creepy. And I had to ask her to tell me my destiny. It was actually kind of scary. There was a lot of green smoke. It just came out of her and made some vision.'

'So you saw what would happen?'

'I … I'm not exactly sure. I got a couple of rhyming lines and I saw some stuff I didn't really understand. But Chiron said prophecies are like that—all vague and full of stuff that won't make sense until it actually happens.'

'Maybe if you tell me, I can figure it out. I'm really good at puzzles, you know.'

Luke laughed. 'I know. But it's probably like a test for me to work it out myself.' He ruffled her hair. 'Well, I really should go to bed. We're leaving at first light. But I didn't want to go with you all PO-ed at me still.'

'I'm not pissed,' Annabeth said. 'I just want to go on a quest.'

'I know you do. Just—not this one, okay? Maybe there'll be another one soon.'

He returned to cabin eleven and Annabeth brooded over what he'd told her. Well, she thought, if all that was really needed for a quest was a prophecy, maybe she would just go to the Oracle and ask for one herself. She wouldn't sit around waiting for someone to decide whether she was ready. In fact, why wait? She could go right now, walk up to the Big House and climb up to the attic like Luke had done.

The idea thrummed through her veins like ambrosia flowing through her bloodstream. _It's probably a test_ , Luke had said. Maybe that was what she had to do: take her destiny into her own hands. Wasn't there a saying— _the gods help those who help themselves_ , or something like that?

She was going to help herself.

OoOoO

Annabeth rarely went to the Big House. It was a four-storey farmhouse that sat on the southeastern edge of camp, among the strawberry fields. Chiron lived there, as did the camp director, Mr D, who often complained bitterly about his accommodations. Although the large house seemed to have pretty decent facilities, Annabeth guessed that in comparison to Mount Olympus, Mr D's original home, even a palace would be found lacking.

The campers mostly stuck to the lower floors of the Big House; the rec room was on the ground floor and the infirmary on the second. Chiron, being a centaur, had apartments in a separate wing on the ground floor, accessible through the hallway, but the third floor, which Mr D occupied, was completely sealed off. The stairs went straight up two flights from the second floor and ended under a trapdoor with a long cord dangling from it.

Annabeth stood beneath it, holding up the bronze lamp she'd swiped from the porch to light her way. The green paint on the door was cracked and peeling. She almost turned back when she caught sight of the remains of several cobwebs in the corner.

No, she told herself. She wouldn't chicken out now. The silky strands were torn, probably by the last person who had opened the trapdoor. The webs weren't recent. It would be okay.

She took a deep breath and pulled the cord.

The door fell open. A ladder dropped down, hitting the landing with a loud thump.

Annabeth froze. Surely the noise was loud enough to alert Mr D to her presence. She waited, but moments passed and no irate god of wine appeared on the steps. Annabeth breathed out slowly and climbed the ladder.

She was surrounded by piles of dusty memorabilia. Her lamp passed over the nearest ones—rotting body parts of monsters, old shields and plaques and various other trophies. It was obviously a collection for discarded spoils of wars. Quest trophies, Annabeth thought. They were old and disgusting, yet they _meant_ something. There were tags hanging off the items, but it was too dark to make out anything. The room had only one window, which was dusty, and the dim moonlight filtering through was blocked by the shadow of a humanoid figure sitting before it.

The Oracle.

Annabeth understood why Luke had found it hard to describe her. She'd never seen anyone—anything?—like it. The woman was skeletal, with skin stretched across the bony contours of her frame that was so thin and dry that it looked as though a mere touch would cause it to crumble. Her outfit was just as ancient: a faded multi-coloured sundress that would not have been out of place at a 1940s garden party. Her skinny neck was heavily adorned with old-fashioned bead necklaces. Thick locks of lank black hair framed a withered face that seemed to be all eyes, except peering out of the sockets were milky spheres: pure white with no irises or pupils. Yet Annabeth had the sense that there was something inside them, an ominous spirit of _something_ staring out, aware of her presence and daring her to approach.

'I …' She took another deep breath, steadied her voice, and said, 'I've come for a prophecy.'

In the silence, Annabeth could hear her own heart pounding: one beat, two beats, three. Where was the vision Luke had spoken of? The green smoke?

Then the Oracle shifted. Annabeth took an involuntary step back as the Oracle raised an arm towards her. But it was her own neck she reached for; one leathery fist closed around one of the rustic necklaces she wore. It fell off and toppled into her lap. Annabeth gaped as the Oracle raised her withered hand and shook a tiny pouch on the necklace.

Luke hadn't said anything to suggest this might happen. Annabeth had gotten the impression that the Oracle _couldn't_ move.

A miniscule scroll fell out of the pouch and fluttered to Annabeth's feet. She picked it up and unrolled a piece of parchment that was no bigger than her palm. The writing on it was in tiny cursive script, a real pain to decipher. Annabeth had only managed to struggle through the first couple of words when billowing green smoke filled the room, making her eyes water.

' _A half-blood of the eldest gods_

 _Shall reach sixteen against all odds …_ '

'Annabeth?'

Annabeth started, jumping to her feet and knocking the bronze lamp to the ground with a loud clatter that drowned out the next lines from the Oracle. Chiron's human half popped out from the trapdoor, glaring sternly at her as the Oracle offered two final lines.

' _A single choice shall end his days._

 _Olympus to preserve to raze._ '

The Oracle fell silent. Annabeth stared guiltily at Chiron through the lingering green haze.

'Um,' she faltered. Awkwardly, Annabeth looked down at the parchment. The words were easier to read now that she'd heard them spoken. She skimmed the first two lines and stared on the third, which she'd missed when Chiron had interrupted.

'Annabeth!'

She looked up. Chiron held his hand out. Reluctantly, she handed him the parchment, which he rolled up and then handed back to her.

'Put it back, please.'

She did so, popping it back in the pouch and clasping the necklace back around the now-motionless Oracle.

Chiron stared at her, not saying any more, but his expression was unmistakable: explain yourself.

Annabeth hung her head. 'I just wanted ... I thought ... sorry.'

Her words hung in the air for a while. When she finally chanced another look at him, Chiron no longer looked angry—more weary and sorrowful.

'You shouldn't have done that,' he said at last. 'That prophecy …'

'I missed two of the lines, though. Is that bad? I'll need the whole thing for my quest, right?'

'Your quest?' Chiron shook his head. 'No, my dear, the Oracle has not given you a prophecy.'

'But … it just—'

'It gave you _a_ prophecy, but it is not yours. Come.' He retreated to let her climb through the trapdoor. She did so reluctantly and traipsed after him downstairs and through the hallways of the Big House.

Chiron held a door open for her and she stepped into what seemed to be a sitting room, except instead of couches and armchairs, plump red cushions with shaggy fringes were strewn around a high coffee table. The walls were lined with high shelves that were filled with dusty leather-bound tomes. A bow and arrow lay on one of the lower shelves. Chiron's wheelchair, the disguise he used to compact his lower centaur half away when he wanted to appear human, lounged in one corner of the room. In another corner, a vintage record player, the kind that went out of fashion decades ago, was playing softly. It was something with a chorus of wailing violins. Annabeth winced.

Chiron opened a cabinet and extracted two goblets the same kind they had at dinner time in the mess hall. He set one on the coffee table in front of Annabeth, which reached nearly to her chin.

'I should probably get some bar stools for guests,' he muttered, then sighed. 'Never mind. Have a drink.'

'Um, lemon ice tea,' Annabeth told the goblet. It filled immediately. She reached up and took a tentative sip.

'The prophecy you heard,' Chiron said after filling his own goblet with a sludge-like liquid Annabeth didn't recognise, 'was in fact made nearly seventy years ago, in the 1940s. We refer to it as the Great Prophecy. In those days, the Oracle still had a mortal host. That was before Lord Hades cursed her to languish without a living receptacle.'

'Lord Hades cursed her …?' Annabeth made a face. 'But … seventy years ago … why would she make my prophecy years before I was even born to ask for it? How does that work? Was Luke's like that, too?'

'It is not your prophecy, Annabeth. Once in a blue moon, the Oracle will deliver a general prophecy that speaks not to a seeker of a quest, but lays out a destiny that is to be fulfilled. The Oracle has been carrying it around since it was made, holding on to it until the time is right.' Chiron frowned. 'It should not have been revealed.'

A bubble of excitement swelled in Annabeth's chest. 'How do you know it isn't mine? Maybe now is the right time. Maybe I'm—'

'Because you cannot be the one the prophecy refers to,' Chiron said simply. 'The wording of the first two lines makes it quite clear that you are not.'

'But—' Annabeth's argument died mid-sentence as she realised Chiron was right. Her bubble deflated instantly.

' _A half-blood of the eldest gods_ —I know prophecies are often misleading, but it is clear that this line can only refer to a child of the original Olympians, mostly likely one of the three eldest, most powerful brothers. It was this prophecy, in fact, that drove them to swear their oath against any more mortal children.'

'But they _did_ have … well, at least one of them …'

Chiron looked at her sorrowfully. 'It is a solemn thing to swear upon the River Styx as they did. An oath like that cannot be broken without dire consequences … which sometimes, sad to say, may be borne by an innocent.'

'Thalia,' whispered Annabeth. 'Was she …?'

'She seemed to be the best fit,' Chiron said. 'Alas, we both know how it ended for her.' He looked out the window and Annabeth followed his gaze over to Half-Blood Hill, where the pine tree that had once been her friend stood tall in the moonlight.

'Does that mean there is another demigod out there, a kid of the Big Three?' She ran over the lines she'd heard again and realised there was another clue in it. 'It said _his_ days. It has to be a boy, then.' More disappointing evidence that it wasn't a quest prophecy for her after all.

'Well, we don't know that for sure. Prophecies like these tend to use pronouns in a general sense. _His or her days_ doesn't give quite the same ring, and an Oracle needs to be pithy. All I do know, though, is that if they are out there, it's only a matter of time before the monsters find them—if they haven't already. The gods would love to destroy the child; the prophecy made them uneasy. _Olympus to preserve or raze_ … to have their fate in the hands of a mortal … no, the gods would prefer to rid themselves of the threat. Although,' he frowned, 'prophecies are not so easily thwarted. One way or another, they always reach fulfilment. Nevertheless, even if the child of the prophecy manages to evade the forces arrayed against him—or her—their life is likely to be anything but easy. And the lines you heard … well, it doesn't give good odds for their survival.'

Annabeth swallowed hard. 'If it's a prophecy for someone else, why did the Oracle tell _me_?'

Chiron looked highly disturbed. 'I would guess that the Oracle revealed the prophecy to you because she foresees that you will have a part to play in it. While I doubt you are the central figure it refers to, I imagine you will be closely connected to them. But this is not a good thing, Annabeth. We are talking about a dark, dangerous prophecy here.'

One of the lines ran through her head again: _a final choice shall end his days_ , and she shivered, thinking again of Thalia. She'd chosen to stand against monsters to save her friends, and that had ended _her_ days. Would this be something like that? Annabeth didn't want to be the reason for a friend's death ever again.

'I missed two of the lines, though,' she said. 'Do you know what they are?' She hoped they might offer some guidance, something she could do to help. Maybe those were the crucial bits, the parts that spelled out how she would be involved.

Chiron studied her carefully. 'I do. But I do not think it would be wise to tell you now. You have heard what you were meant to. And the gods would not be happy for knowledge of the prophecy to spread. It is dangerous enough for you to know as much as you do.' He gave her a meaningful look.

'I won't tell,' she promised.

'And we will have to prepare you thoroughly for your first quest. There will be time—we have not located the child of the prophecy yet—'

Annabeth brightened. 'I could go out and find him! That's my quest, isn't it?'

'No, you misunderstand me. We must train you to accompany the half-blood of the prophecy, when they are ready for _their_ first quest.'

'Wait—you're not saying that I can't have a quest until this guy—or girl—shows up?'

'That is indeed what I am saying. I think that is the best interpretation of the Oracle's intentions in relating the prophecy to you.'

Annabeth thought this seemed a pretty far-fetched assumption. 'That's not fair! I came to get a prophecy for my own quest, not someone else's. And we don't even know who this person _is_ yet! It's not like there's kids of the Big Three everywhere. It could be _years_ before they show up.'

'Years in which you will be trained to be the best warrior you can be,' Chiron said firmly. 'No arguments, Annabeth. You will undertake a quest with the half-blood of the prophecy and no earlier.'

She glared at him mutinously and his expression grew gentler. 'You are brave, child, and you will be a great hero one day, one of the best this camp has to offer. But my job is to keep you safe and teach you the skills you will need to stay alive when your time comes.'

Annabeth looked away. It was hard to rage against Chiron when he said things like that. She still felt mad that her destiny had to be tied to someone else, but maybe it would be okay. One day, hopefully soon, a hero would arrive at camp—someone brave and powerful like Thalia—and she would get her chance.

Until then, she'd make sure she _was_ the best Camp Half-Blood had to offer.


End file.
